Our little friend was in great distress, for her aunts and mamma had always taught her to avoid debts, and she was really ashamed to ask them for soine of her own money. There was an old lady, who generally gave her a penny whenever she saw her, and as her aunts were going to take her there to tea that night, perhaps she would do so now. Poor Annie was disappointed, for aunt Mary had been telling Mrs. Lomax of her niece's intended purchases, and her kind old friend, after asking her many questions about them, put half-a-crown into her hand. "There, Annie! now are you not obliged to Mrs. Lomax?" said her aunt. She blushed, and said "yes"-thinking how much rather she would have had a penny. "I am quite glad," continued Aunt Mary, " that Annie is wise enough not to waste her money at Mrs. Clarke's stail; I am sure she must have more pleasure in sending a useful present to her little brother, than in eating that sweet-stuff that would make her ill, as it does that greedy girl, Charlotte Price." "I hope my little Annie will never be greedy," said Mrs. Lomax, "it makes persons so mean. Why, I am told that Charlotte often goes in debt for cakes and sweetmeats." "Dear me, I hope not," said Aunt Mary; "debt is a dreadful thing. When young people, or old, once run into debt, there's no knowing what it may lead to." Annie now had less inclination than ever to tell her aunt of her fault, and the next day it rained so heavily that she could not go to school. She tried to coax her aunts and grandpapa to give her a penny, but they said she had had quite enough that week, and she was obliged to return without having the money for Mrs. Clarke; she was quite ashamed to pass the stall, and would slink by whenever she thought the old woman would not see her. Two or three days afterwards, when she was taking a walk with her aunts, they stopped to speak to Mrs. Clarke, and Annie trembled all over-for she thought she would be sure to remind her of her debt. Her aunt put a cake into her hands, but, instead of eating it, she lingered behind, and gave it back to Mrs. Clarke, saying that would be a halfpenny off. "Why, what have you been loitering for, Annie?" said her aunt. "Nothing, aunt." "Where is your cake?-gone already! I thought you would have kept a bit to feed the swans with, little greedy! Never mind, pet, I dare say you were hungry: I only called you greedy in fun, darling; so don't cry.' Charlotte Price had now found out that Annie had not paid Mrs. Clarke; but, instead of wishing or trying to help her, she threatened to tell her aunts of her, if she did not give her more cakes. "I know they would be famously angry with you, Miss, and serve you right too, you are so stingy; why, Mrs. Lomax gave you a whole half-crown the other day, and yet you won't even pay your debts." "Oh, Charlotte! how can you be so cross? You know I am saving it to buy baby's coat, and I can't change it, and I asked Mrs. Clarke to wait a little while, and she says she will, be use I am honest and truthful." "What do you mean by that, Miss? I'm sure I'm as honest as you are; but that nasty, spiteful old woman says she'll complain at school, and don't pay her ninepence I owe her; so, if you don't lend me that, or promise to pay Mrs. Clarke for me, I'll tell of you to-morrow; see if I don't!" Annie was dreadfully frightened at this; she knew she could not do what Charlotte wished, and after thinking a great deal, so much so, that she was turned back in all her lessons, and got into sad disgrace, she determined to tell the truth to her aunts, and pay off her terrible debt at once. That very afternoon she asked them to go by Mrs. Clarke's, and then she told them to pay the old woman twopence-halfpenny for her. "Twopence-halfpenny, Annie! What for? You surely will not break your money now? You know you had but just enough for baby's things, and the parcel must be bought and packed to-night, as your uncle goes tomorrow." "I can't help it, aunt; I owe it Mrs. Clarke, and I must pay her at once." You, Annie-you owe money for cakes-I am shocked.". "Indeed it was not her fault, ma'am, so much as the young ladies," said Mrs. Clarke. "Miss Annie has never bought anything herself. I can wait-I will gladly wait-she need not be disappointed of sending the things to town." "You are very good, but Annie must pay her debts'be just before you are generous'-she must not make presents when she owes money." Annie's debt was paid, but she lost that opportunity of sending to town; and she heard that baby was sadly disappointed to find his uncle had brought him nothing from his sister, for he had heard she was sending him a fine present. This was her punishment; and it was a lesson to her never to be extravagant again, even in little matters; for by foolishly allowing her schoolfellows to help themselves as they liked at Mrs. Clarke's stall, she ran into debt, you see; and debt, if ever so small, always brings shame and disgrace, as Charlotte had found,-for she was not only punished both at home and at school, when the old woman had to call for her money, but all her schoolfellows shunned her on account of her mean greediness. THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. ther the two ideas of pride and man; behold him, creaTake some quiet, sober moment of life, and add togeture of a span high, stalking through infinite space in all the grandeur of littleness. Perched on a speck of the universe, every wind of heaven strikes into his blood the coldness of death; his soul floats from his body like wheel, he is rolled along the heavens, through a labyrinth melody from the string; day and night, as dust on the of worlds, and all the creations of God are flaming above and beneath. Is this a creature to make for himself a crown of glory, to deny his own flesh, to mock at his fellow, sprung from that dust to which both will soon return? Does the proud man not err? Does he not suffer? Does he not die? When he reasons, is he never stopped by difficulties: When he acts, is he never When he lives, is he free from pain? When he dies, can he escape the common grave? tempted by pleasure? Pride is not the heritage of man; humility should dwell with frailty, and atone for ignorance, error, and imperfection.-Rev. Sydney Smith. IMPORTANCE of underSTANDING TENDENCIES. If we consider well, we shall find that every capability, however slight, is born with us; that there is no vague, general capability in man. It is our ambiguous, dissipating education that makes men uncertain; it awakens wishes, when it should be animating tendencies; instead of forwarding our real capacities, it turns our efforts towards objects which are frequently discordant with the mind that aims at them. I augur better of a child, a youth who is wandering astray in a path of his own, than of many who are walking aright upon paths which are not theirs. If the former, either by themselves or by the guidance of others, ever find the right path, that is to say, the path which suits their nature, they will never leave it; while the latter are in danger every moment of shaking off a foreign yoke, and abandoning themselves to unrestricted license.-Goethe's Wilhelm Meister. LOOK UP. Look up, when about thee are clinging The joys that would bind thee to earth: In thought let thy spirit, upspringing, Still roam the bright land of her birth. Look up from the sorrows that darken With shadows thy pathway through life; To the sweet voice of hope-speaking hearken, 'Mid the old sounds, discordant, of strife. When thine heart 'neath its burthen is failing, Is the night-time of error prevailing ?- Look up, when despairing thou liest LET US TRY TO BE HAPPY. LET us try to be happy! we may if we will FRITZ. But what, rightly managed, would turn to a good If we were but as ready to look to the light As we are to sit moping because it is night, We should own it a truth, both in word and in deed, That who tries to be happy is sure to succeed. Let us try to be happy! some shades of regret Are sure to hang round, which we cannot forget. There are times when the lightest of spirits must bow And the sunniest face wear a cloud on its brow: We must never bid feelings, the purest and best, To lie blunted and cold in our bosoms at rest; But the deeper our own grief, the greater our need To try to be happy, lest other hearts bleed. Oh! try to be happy! It is not for long We shall cheer on each other by counsel or song. Before God and our Conscience, and trust for the rest; ELIZABETH P. ROBERTS. CHILDREN. 1 am glad the world is full of children. To me, earth, with all its other charms, were a gloomy waste without them. I love to feel as a little child. There is no solace in affliction so sweet as the sympathy of children; there is no music so enchanting as their unaffected, joyous laugh. I am never so happy, aud the gentle spirit of humanity never breathes so freshly and cheeringly into my heart, as when I am surrounded by a company of affectionate, merry children.-Henry C. Wright. DIAMOND DUST. PRIDE is never so effectually put to the blush, as when it finds itself contrasted with an easy but dignified humility. TRUTH should never strike her topsails in compliment to ignorance or sophistry. SOME run headlong into danger because they have not the courage to wait for it. THE friendship that is formed insensibly, and without professing much, is generally the most lasting. THE mind is like a sheet of white paper in this, that the impressions it receives the oftenest, and retains the longest, are black ones. IN contentions for power, the philosophy and poetry of life are dropped and trodden down. THE heart is a garden, youth is its spring, and hope is its sunshine. Love is a thorny plant which grows up and bears one bright flower which has nothing like it in all the earth. THOSE Who would conscientiously employ power for the good of others deserve it, but do not desire it; and those who would employ it for the good of themselves, desire it, but do not deserve it. THINK it no part of your business curiously to search into other men's lives, but narrowly inspect your own errors. IT is much better to mend one fault in yourself than to find a hundred in your neighbour. LIBELLERS-literary bravoes, supported by illiterate cowards. WHEN thou hast no observers, be afraid of thyself. To love one that is great is almost to be great one's self. SOME read to think,-these are rare; some to write,these are common; and some read to talk,-and these form the great majority. MANY there are who preach less from the feelings of the heart than from the fulness of the memory. EVERYBODY knows that an hour is sixty minutes; yet few seem to know that sixty minutes are an hour. GOLD should never be made the god of our idolatry, but the agent of our benevolence. THE victims of ennui paralyze all the grosser feelings of excess, and torpify all the finer, by disuse and inactivity. AFFECTATION of any kind is holding up a candle to our defects, and shows want of judgment or sincerity. MANY cups, many diseases; too much oil chokes the lamp. THINK often on what you have done, that you may not forget what you have to do. GRATITUDE is a feeling we may hope for, but not one we can exact. MANY who find the day too long think life too short. THE brain of a fox will be of little service to thee, if thou venturest to play with the paw of a lion. THOSE who have no friends to whom they can confide their sorrows are cannibals of their own heart. in a well; while one ascends the other descends. MAN's prayer, and God's mercy, are like two buckets To sin on quietly, because you do not intend to sin always, is to live on a reversion which will, probably, never be yours. He that understands the weight of each, would rather wield a flail than a sceptre. RARELY promise; but, if lawful, constantly perform. Printed by JouN OWEN CLARKE, at 121, Fleet Street, and published at the Office of the Journal, 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, London. A SOLDIER'S RECOLLECTIONS. [PRICE 1d. armies are composed of; educated men would first grumble, and at length rebel. Intellectual culture would in all probability be fatal to the discipline, perhaps to the prowess of armies; not because those with a larger share of knowledge would not fight as sternly in defence of their relatives, their homes, their properties, and thelr rights, as the most illiterate; but, because, they would not be so contented to shed their blood, and spend their lives in quarrels which do not concern them, and for objects in which they have no interest. Ignorance and want of thought on the part of the governed are the grand supports of that discipline which requires passive obedience, and is more heavy, galling, and restrictive in its action, than any civil despotism which tyrants have ever attempted to impose upon the world. Let us take an example of military obedience in illustration of this from M. Elzéar Blaze. THE second portion of the " Lights and Shades of Military Life," edited by Sir C. J. Napier, is written by M. Elzéar Blaze, who, unlike the Count de Vigny, the author of the first portion, (see Journal, No. 89,) was a soldier of the empire, gives us a more stirring, exciting notion of the life of a soldier, than we gather from the recollections of the Count, who entered the French army just when Napoleon was overthrown, and the wars which had so long desolated Europe were brought to a close. The soldier of the Bourbons passing a tedious insipid life in country quarters and listless parades is devoured by en nui and dissatisfaction, and is led into a train of thought, which shows him the army stripped of its apparent usefulness, divested of its fictitious glory, and being transformed in the minds of the people from an idol to an "Well clothed, well warmed, well lodged, well fedobject of dislike, sees things from a very different point what lacks the soldier? Oh, but a mere trifle !-as the of s ght to that which is occupied by the actual warrior, dog in the fable said to his companion-liberty. That whose memory teems with the fatigues of marches, the collar which is riveted about the neck of the soldier is constant change of scene and association, the rough not broken till he is released from the service, either by enjoyment of the camp and the bivouac, the constant a discharge or by a cannon-ball. All the time that watchfulness of out-post duty in the front of a hostile the soldier passes with his regiment is divided into a force, and the animating excitement of the field of battle. hundred different portions, scarcely one of which belongs These scenes prevent thought by the continuity and exclusively to himself. If he sleeps, the drum awakes intensity of the action which goes on among them, and him; if he wakes, the drum obliges him to sleep. The so while the Count de Vigny becomes a somewhat senti- drum makes him march, it stops him, leads him to exmental, but reflective soliloquizer, M. Elzéar Blaze pre-ercise, to battle, to mass, to the promenade. 'I am sents us with a series of animated pictures, the recollec- hungry!' 'you must be mistaken, my friend; the drum tion of which seems endeared to his mind; as the memory has not yet made that rolling which ought alone to of past privations manfully borne, and of bygone dangers successfully braved, is endeared to the minds of most men of healthful active temperaments; but to the reader the record of the man of action, and the lucubrations of the man of thought, tend to the same conclusion. They both alike tend to show the hideousness of that military system, which turns men into unthinking machines, and crushing out their individuality of character, smothers the voice of conscience, and the promptings of right under a blind unintelligent obedience. It is true that obedience is a useful quality in the affairs of the world, and ought not to be treated lightly. In the present state of society at all events, obedience is the mainspring of real order-but it is intelligent thinking obedience, which alone is valuable-and while the willing submission of the citizen to those laws which are necessary to the conservation and progress of society-while a leaving room for individual freedom of thought and action is a high example of that quality; the slavish abjectness of the soldier transforming the man into a mere piece of clock work is a state to which no intelligent being should willingly suffer himself to be reduced. Such a system of can only be safely enforced for any great length of shake the fibres of your stomach. The soup cannot be ready till the drum has said so.' 'If I had but a crust of bread!' 'Dolt! the drum has not beat the breloque !'" In the morning, the soldier, broom in hand, sweeps the barracks within and without, and again the drum calls him to his duty. One day in Laborie's week, when, of course, he had to superintend the sweepers, he was very angry with a corporal because a heap of dirt, for the removal of which he had given positive orders the day before, had not been taken away. "But, lieutenant, we know not where to put it.' "Throw it outside.' "The mayor has already complained, and the colonel forbidden that to be done.' "Well then dig a hole and bury it.' "And what shall we do with the mouid that comes out of it?' "Are you stupid, corporal? You must make it large enough to hold both.' "When the sweeping is finished, the manual exercise succeeds; and then the arms and accoutrements must be cleaned, the cartouch box polished, the clothes brushed, the shoes blacked, the buttons brightened. Make haste, it is the hour for the parade. It is there you must shine. Come along, my hero, distinguish yourself; the least spot upon your frock would draw a prohibition to go out upon the corporal of the week and the serjeant of the week, arrest upon the lieutenant of the week, and you would long feel the effects of the punishment which they had undergone for your sake. These gentlemen are civilly responsible for the appearance of their soldiers. If they are not smart,' says the colonel, 'it is you that I shall call to account.' All these orders of the drum, of the corporal, and of the officers, must always be obeyed instantly, without remark, without reply. When the clock-maker has made a clock, it goes without asking why. Soldiers, you must be like that clock; march, turn, halt, above all not a word! "But captain' "To the salle de police for two days!' "If you would listen to me "For four days.' "And yet "For a week.' "It is an injustice!' "To prison for a fortnight. If you say another word, beware of the black hole and a court martial.' 'Nothing short of this severity has been necessarily required, in order that one individual might be master of one hundred thousand armed men. Passive obedience from grade to grade, is the condition sine qua non of the existence of an army. The most absurd, the most stupid order, must be obeyed without a word." What a life for the poor aspirants for glory. The perpetual drum their monitor, and they its passive slaves bound without the semblance of a murmur to obey orders which their intellect sneers at or their consciences revolt from. One would think that no amount of lodging, food, and clothes, ay, and laurels to boot, though those same laurels, by the way, grow but thinly and stunted, and withered in the ranks, would recompense a lifetime like this so opposed to manly truth and independence. But it is not only private soldiers that are exposed to such influences as these. Though they may assume more delicacy, the officer is equally the slave of the caprices of his superiors. Take the following instance for example, which in combination with its most objectionable features presents a mixture of absurdity, stupidity, and subserviency so ridiculous, that we should have hesitated to give credence to it upon the testimony of a less trustworthy authority than M. Blaze. "In 1813 we were in the environs of Berlin; we were effecting our retreat, which was not very agreeable, for in order to see the Russians we were obliged to make a half-turn. One evening the general received a letter to this effect, I must first mention that we were quartered in a village, with two battalions of infantry and four pieces of cannon, and that we were face to face with the enemy. 'My dear General,-Send immediately one of your battalions to the village of The officer who commands it must guard himself militarily, and keep up all night patroles which are to communicate with ours. Give him two of your pieces of cannon.' Assuredly this order was positive enough; never was there anything less ambiguous. Our general gave orders for the departure of the battalions; he read the letter again and again, mused over it, and then exclaimed: 'He does not say what I am to do with the other two pieces of cannon!' You must keep them of course.' "His letter does not say so.' "Neither does it say what you are to do with the other battalion. You must keep the battalion and the cannon too.' "The general was perhaps vexed to see that I was clearly right. He takes me for a fool said he to himself. Soho, my fine fellow who think yourself a deal cleverer than I I'll make you smart for it. 'Mount your horse, am. Sir; go to the general of division, and ask him the meaning of his letter.' "But it seems to me that "Let the order I give be instantly obeyed.' "Be assured, general, that it is useless; that I always do my duty with zeal, but at this moment 666 Begone, Sir. I command you!' "I was obliged to start, to run all night through the fields, along horrible roads with which I was not acquainted; the rain poured in torrents, and I can assure you that the ride was none of the most agreeable. I had to pass through all the French sentries; twice or thrice I got in the dark to the enemy's advanced posts, and musket shots drove me back into my road. The French, hearing me coming from the wrong direction, fired upon me too, long before they cried qui vive, which they are too much in the habit of doing. If I escaped with my life that night, it was entirely owing to the terrible weather, which I heartily cursed at the moment of my departure. At length I arrived at the quarters of the general of division at Köpnick. "Where is the general? waken the general; I must speak to the general.' "What is the matter then? are we attacked?' asked the officers of the staff. "Waken the general; I am ordered to speak to none but the general himself." "The brave was enjoying the sweets of his first sleep. I entered his chamber with my sabre trailing along the floor. "Ah, you there! Is there fighting in your quarter? Do you come for reinforcement ?" "I am come to inquire the meaning of your order." "What order?' "Our general wishes to know what he is to do with the two pieces of cannon that he has left.' "Are you making game of me?' "Most certainly I should not take such a liberty. I hope, general, that you think me incapable of doing so?' "Then you must be silly.' 'Permit me, general, to remark that I am not acting upon my own account; that I am merely the bearer of message from another. This other asks, by my voice, what he is to do with the two pieces of cannon.' "Are we acting a play? or is it a wager that you arɔ striving to win?' "Believe me, general, if I were acting the play, I would not take the liberty to make you an interlocutor without your permission; and if I had laid a wager, I should not have dared to waken you in the middle of the night to decide the winning or the losing of it; once more I repeat my question: what are we to do with the two pieces of cannon that we have left?' "Go to the devil with them!' "So much for myself; but the general?' "Well, both of you, together or separately, I care not how; let me alone, I want to sleep.' "My embassy finished, I mounted my horse again, and got back by eight in the morning, at the very mon.ent when the battalion and the two fatal pieces of cannon were on the point of starting. The general was at the head of his troops. I arrived, bowed to him, and waited to be questioned. "Have you seen the general of the division?' 'Yes.' If such a scene as this were presented on the boards of a theatre, it would appear in its broad extravagance, to outrage probability if not possibility, but here it is narrated by one of the actors in it. The story reminds one of the sayings of that man who told his son to see with how little wisdom the world was governed. How ludicrous the stupidity of the general who could not decipher | the meaning of so plain an order, and how revolting the mixture of vanity, and malice, and want of self-control, that could prompt him, on being set right, to uselessly expose the life of another. What a slave to the whims and caprices of a man whom he despised M. Blaze must have felt himself, if "military subordination" allowed him to think, as he rode through foul weather and the musket shots of friendly and hostile sentinels. What a curious idea the angry impatience and almost excusable coarseness, of the general of division, gives us of the courtesies and amenities which are nursed, amid the vicissitudes of military life, and finally what a ludicrous sort of poetical justice there is in the insulting answer being conveyed to the stupid and malicious general, by the discipline-opened lips of his subordinate. voltigeur, my wife is ill, she cannot walk any further; yon must sell me that ass.' How much do you ask for it?' "Twenty francs.' 'Are you joking? Twenty francs !-twenty francs! and for a stolen ass-for you have stolen it-and it would serve you right if I were to inform the generalin-chief.' "But, captain, I did not steal it; I found it as we were passing through the last village.' "You found it, did you? I am not such a simpleton as to believe that.' "But even if I had stolen it, you ought to be very glad, since you are in want of such a thing.' "Well, I will give you two pieces of ene hundred sous, for your ass.' "Oh, no! I must have twenty francs!' "Well, I give your choice between my two hundred sous, and a complaint to the general-in-chief!' "Here, take my ass !' "My dear fellow,' said he, turning to me, it is horribly dear; ten francs for a stolen ass! but, never mind, money was made to circulate.'" It is useless, worse than idle, to talk of honour and The above anecdote puts one in mind of the oft-told glory, fame and emulation, and such like thought bubbles story of the miser in an emergency, begging for aid, as high and ennobling influences; such a system must making the most extravagant offers to obtain help, and degrade the soldier, it must take the best qualities of when assisted depreciating the service. It contrasts oddly the freeman out of him—it must have a tendency to make enough with that common notion which prevails of the men tyrants to those below them, slaves to those above free-handed careless liberality of soldiers. The conthem, and tyranny and slavery are two of the most duct of the voltigeur too is strangely at variance with debasing circumstances to which human beings can be received impressions of the chivalrous gallantry of subjected. They are likely, if not certain, to weaken the Frenchmen generally, and of French soldiers in partitrue relations of man to man, and to lower the tone of cular. It would appear that we must modify those morality. That they have this effect is pretty evident notions of the qualities which go to make up the military from several anecdotes in the work, of which the follow-character, and which we have picked up at second-hand ing, embodying as it does both meanness and tyranny, is one of the most unobjectionable examples: from poets and romancists, and opportunely enough the Count de Vigny and M. Elzéar Blaze come forward, under the auspices of so distinguished a soldier as Sir C. J. Napier, to assist us in the task. Our readers will no doubt have remarked the italicized word "found" in the preceding dialogue, and that besides introducing us to a knowledge of the odd notions of meum and tuum which obtain in military service, and the nice subtle, soldierlike, we suppose we must say, distinc tion between finding and stealing learnt in that school, leads us to notice the fact which M. Blaze records, that the French armies were accompanied by numerous orga "In a skirmish near Burgos, the wife of an officer of ny acquaintance had her carriage broken to picces, and she was forced to proceed sorrowfully on foot. She was soon overwhelmed with fatigue; the perspiration trickled down her face, her delicate limbs could no longer support their burden; it was impossible for her to go a hundred paces further. Her husband was extremely distressed to see his wife in such a condition. Poor Laura,' said he to me, she will certainly die upon the road if I cannot meet with a carriage, a horse, or a mule to carry her.' "We shall not find any to-day, but I think ob-nized gangs of plunderers, not composed of the rabble of served in the rear-guard a soldier driving an ass, and if you can prevail on him to sell or lend it to you "An excellent thought, you are my best friend, that you are. Where is that soldier? where is that ass? would give fifty louis for an ass for Laura. Poor Laura, how tired she is.' "She cannot stir another step.' sutlers and camp followers, but of those "immortal troops" which covered France with so much glory. Of course it would be too much to expect that men without Irations marching through a hostile country would abstain from pillage, and starve; but it would appear that plundering went on when there was no want of food, and what is more remarkable than all, the gentlemen of the army, the officers themselves not only winked at, but aided and abetted the practice, and shared in the spoil. M. Blaze for his own part naïvely enough confesses to a participation in some little picarooning of this sort. H. says- "I would give a hundred louis for an ass. Money was made to circulate; and of what benefit is it to have money if Laura suffers? Let us go and look for this ass.' "I dare say you might get it at a much cheaper rate.' "What signifies the price, so I do but find an ass? But where shall we find one?' "At the rear-guard. I think it belongs to some marauder who is keeping out of the way; let the regiment pass on, we shall soon see.' Courage Laura, walk a little further; I shall soon be back.' "The column had by degrees passed us; the rearguard appeared, and we saw a voltigeur leading by the bridle a long-eared animal, upon which he had slung his knapsack on one side, and his musket, as a counterpoise, upon the other. "Aha, there is the ass that we are looking for! I say "Lieutenant,' said Dieudonné, the most intrepid marauder of the army, to me, one day, if you would give me permission, I would go to a village, which must be on the other side of the wood, for I hear the cocks crowing, and probably, I should find some hens, too, there.' "You well know that it is forbidden.' "Only just not take notice that I am absent at the rappel.' "Get you gone, and contrive so that I know nothing about the matter.' |